A/N: Just a reminder, italics are memories, flashbacks, etc. I sometimes drop them in with little warning and then pop back out of them just as abruptly but pay attention to the typeface and it shouldn't be too confusing.

As always reviews are very welcome and greatly appreciated. To those who have bothered to review I cannot thank you enough. Your suggestions, criticisms, and enjoyment are what encourage me write this as otherwise I would quite happily let it bounce around in the chaotic confines of my mind.

Fanaticism pt. 2

"The fools! How am I supposed to rebuild a country when my citizens are busy killing themselves?" Anora hissed, "Look at them, building bonfires for their ridiculous devotions. I'll wager they will regret that waste of fuel once winter's chill settles over Ferelden. And then who will they blame for their frostbitten toes? Me."

"Many lost everything in the Blight…" Erlina ventured before royal pique overrode her.

"Get the guard commanders over here, Erlina. I don't intend to let a mob of mindless zealots stand between me and the cathedral."

"But, my Lady, wouldn't this be the perfect excuse to not have to attend the purification ritual?"

"Of course it would. Which is exactly what that new, annoying, Orlesian Grand Cleric wants me to do. What could be more empowering for her religion than the Queen of Ferelden being summoned to repent her sins and have her vulva inspected? Only said Queen obediently responding to the summons and being turned away by a horde of smelly, religious madmen. Can you imagine her glee, Erlina? This is now an obvious challenge to my authority; a challenge I will lose if I slink away like a chastened dog." Glaring at the crowd Anora continued, "And in the social upheaval that inevitably follows war such weakness breeds ideas about challenging authority. And such ideas have a tendency to overthrow those that hold the reigns of power."

"But surely these poor, broken souls are not a threat! As bizarre as their actions are they simply seek solace from their shattered lives in the Chant of Light; they are not playing at politics."

"But whoever organized this is. As for them not being a threat…I'm sure any of the old Tevinter Magisters, if were they still alive, would be able to tell you about the Chant's potential to cause mischief." Watching the Reverend Mother's crowd suddenly ceased their flagellation as a group of templars entered the square Anora added, "Or just ask that mage if he feels threatened. Now, go get the guard officers."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Erlina responded before hurrying towards the three officers.

Glancing about as he was ushered into the square Anders cringed as the maddened stares of several thousand bloodied Andrastians turned on him. "Rylock, let's just get past them and into the cathedral as quickly as possible, okay?"

Smiling as she continued her slow, deliberate pace through the now silent crowd Rylock called out to the woman perched atop the impromptu pulpit, "Reverend Mother, as you wished I have brought the notorious apostate Anders to receive his just punishment."

"Your devotion is a light to us all in these dark times, Ser Rylock." The Reverend Mother's voice once again rising to pierce the brooding silence that hung over the assembled flagellants she resumed her shrieking recitation of the Chant of Light, "Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children."

At a signal from Rylock the templars backed away from their prisoner and filed away towards the cathedral doors leaving Anders bound with chains alone in front of the crowd. Looking to where Rylock still stood smirking at him from by the pulpit Ander's shock was quickly replaced by fear as the mob around him began muttering curses and threats towards mages in general and him in particular. Seeing the surrounding flagellants meaningfully hefting their various pain-inducing implements Anders desperately began casting a spell.

Without his staff and being unable to move his arms in the proper way the mage did his best to conjure a simple sleeping spell. Just as the fiery, twisting serpent of power coiled through his mind ready to be unleashed Anders felt an all too familiar cold, oily sensation fill the air around him. Looking over the warily approaching mob's heads Anders cursed at the sight of Rylock standing with her arms raised skywards as her lips moved in silent prayer. Tensing for what he knew was coming Anders did not have to wait long before an explosion of templar pseudo-magic drained the mana from his mind and slammed his body to the ground.

Shaking his head to clear the ringing from his ears Anders struggled to his feet as quickly as his bonds allowed. Backing away from the crowd, which was advancing in the peculiarly hesitant manner of all mobs that don't really know what to do, the mage desperately scanned the area for some hope of escape. Spying a group of armored men at a different entrance to the cathedral square, these ones bearing the royal standard and blissfully free of any religious symbols, Anders shuffled as quickly as his hobbled legs could carry him towards that source of dubious safety. The advancing zealots threatening to encircle him and cut off his route to the soldiers Anders began hopping desperately over the flagstones, his own ragged breathing and clinking chains echoing in his ears.

Smiling manically as the cautiously advancing mob fell behind him and he began nearing the royal guard Anders looked over his shoulder tossing a jaunty, mocking smile at the Reverend Mother and Ser Rylock. Seeing her face twisted into a feral snarl Anders cringed as the Reverend Mother's voice rang out with yet more verses, "They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones." A claw-like finger stabbing towards the bound mage she ordered her congregation onwards, "They shall find no rest in this world or beyond."

"I'm not a maleficar!" Anders protested to deaf ears as the mob charged at him, its wariness having vanished under the Reverend's encouragement.

"Your Majesty." The three guard officers chorused as they approached Anora.

"I need to reach the cathedral. See to it that these…people…are dispersed so I may advance with the dignity appropriate to my station."

Watching the guards shift nervously, eyes not meeting hers, Anora's expression darkened, "Is there a problem, sers?"

Stepping forward Ser Cauthrien snapped to attention and answered briskly, "I'm sorry, your Majesty, but under martial law orders must come from the military commander."

"I see. Well, if you care so much for the letter of the law that you will disobey your Queen then note that this mob violates the laws against assembly that prevail under martial law. Now, I will order you once again…clear this square."

"I must refuse, Your Majesty. Warden Cousland ordered that these zealots be allowed to congregate here unmolested so long as they break no laws."

"I see." Dismissing the insubordinate Cauthrien from her mind Anora looked at the other two officers, "Ser…"

"Mhairi, your Majesty, just promoted to guard captain."

"…Ser Mhairi, and Ser Mylor, return to your troops and tell them to get ready to go into that crowd; the parade is over."

"Yes, Majesty." Ser Mylor barked before heading back to the column of guards.

"Are you waiting for something, Ser Mhairi?" Anora demanded as she watched Mylor marshal his small command of forty soldiers.

"With respect, your Majesty, Commander Cauthrien is correct. Under martial law I must follow the Warden's orders and these fanatics are breaking no laws in assembling here."

Directing her stare back to Mhairi Anora continued, "What oath did you swear when joining my guard?"

"That I would give my life for yours and that I will faithfully defend your honor, person, and Crown." Mhairi intoned as her shoulders slumped and head bowed, no longer able to maintain eye contact with her queen.

"And you are already reneging on that promise?" Anora continued relentlessly, "It takes some years of service before most forget their oaths, does it not Ser Cauthrien."

"Ser Mhairi reneges on no oath, your Majesty, she is simply bound in this matter by an authority greater than yours; as am I." Cauthrien bristled.

"When I want the advice of a traitor regarding matters of loyalty I will ask for your input; until then remain silent." Pleased at Cauthrien's stricken expression Anora returned the full weight of her attention to Mhairi, "I respect your devotion to following the proper chain of command and, unlike with Ser Cauthrien, I have no reason to believe that you are an inherently disloyal person so I will tell you what I am going to do and trust you to make the right decision."

"Yes, your Majesty." Mhairi responded as a new commotion sounded from off to the side where the mage had been.

Glancing that way as both Cauthrien and Anora also looked towards the distraction Ser Mhairi saw the chained mage, now unescorted by templars, hobbling towards her; though it was clear the pursuing mob of flagellants would catch him long before he reached her.

"I am going to walk through this crowd and into the cathedral. Ser Mylor's men should be enough to see that done. Now, you see that mage?" Anora asked, gesturing towards where the mage had been caught and was being tied to a makeshift wooden cross. "What the mob is doing to him does break the law and, unless my dearest betrothed saw fit to make a dispensation for vigilante mage murderers, it is your duty to stop that if I so order."

"That…yes, your Majesty, that is correct." Mhairi answered.

"Good. So, Ser Mylor will escort me into the cathedral and you, Mhairi will take your command and Erlina to rescue the mage. Do not use your weapons unless absolutely necessary, I wish to create as few martyrs as possible." Once more looking towards where the victimized mage was Anora added, "Mhairi, I would hurry if you wish to reach that mage in time."

Following her liege's gaze Mhairi blanched at the sight of the zealots dragging the mage adorned cross towards the bonfire, "Of course, my Queen."

Throwing a salute Ser Mhairi turned and ran towards the waiting guardsmen shouting for her command to form up behind her. As the paltry eighty men and women of the Royal Guard's vanguard and rearguard moved off Ser Cauthrien and the main body found themselves standing in the midst of the flurry of preparation left with nothing to do but look unsure.

Anora moved confidently through the crowd as it parted before her guards. Looking at the sea of crazed people surrounding her tiny force of guards Anora wondered if, perhaps, this wasn't such a sound plan. So far Mylor's troop had only had to shove the occasional madman aside with their shields but the deeper they penetrated the mob the greater the sense of danger became. A danger that seemed to be waiting for the tiniest of sparks to burst into flame. Hearing a sudden roar from the crowd in the direction of the bonfire Anora craned her neck to peer over the mob at the source of the sound. Smiling tightly Anora watched as her carefully planned spark ignited.

Under her gaze people she had sent into danger went about their deadly serious business completely ignorant of her voyeuristic gaze. As Anora looked on a wedge of silver armored figures advanced quickly through the disordered mass of fanatics and towards the imperiled mage; shields flashing up and down as they battered their way through. The sight made Anora's mind recall the gleam that entered her father's eyes whenever he spoke of the ambush he led against the chevaliers at the River Dane. Her own eyes now gleaming Anora felt the crowd's confusion at the sudden onslaught turn into anger. Pushing back at the soldiers while occasional flagstones or other debris arced through the air and clashed against plate armor the mob swirled around the outnumbered royal guard in ever thickening eddies as the soldiers struggled to close in on the cross and mage.

Watching the scene before her Anora felt an alien thrill course through her body. Anora's usual excitement was a slow, suspenseful sensation drawn from attempting to negotiate an advantageous trade agreement or convincing a recalcitrant bann to vote yea or nay during a Landsmeet at her bidding. This feeling, though, was closer to arousal. Her breath quickened, a flutter began in her stomach, her legs weakened and knees shook, and it all seemed to be only leading up to something indefinably exciting that dizzied her senses.

At the tip of the wedge formation Anora could make out Ser Mhairi clearing a path with viciously efficient blows of her shield and fist smashing aside any that stood in her way. The mob, initially taken by surprise, was now beginning to push back against the advancing soldiers; though they hesitated to truly fight back against the well trained guards wearing royal livery. The fire she had prepared was smoldering but not yet burning.

Suddenly ringing out above the angry shouting the shrill voice of the troublesome Reverend Mother again called out, "Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. The seas shall rise and devour them; the wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth!"

Smiling grimly Anora ducked back down into the safety of her escort knowing her carefully orchestrated spark had just hit dry tinder. Turning to Ser Mylor Anora tried to speak calmly; though her voice's urgency betrayed her, "Stop your men here. Form a shield wall around the royal standard and prepare for a fight."

"Your Majesty, if we stop now we will lose momentum and it will be impossible to regain it if this rabble turns on us. I must suggest that we keep moving until we reach the safety of the cathedral, I do not have enough soldiers here to guarantee your safety otherwise."

"Have faith in me, Ser Mylor, and halt your command here." Anora shouted over the growing tumult that surrounded the small island of guardsmen.

"Yes, your Majesty." Mylor said. Grabbing the royal ensign from a nearby guardsman Mylor began issuing orders which the well-trained soldier quickly executed with parade ground precision.

Craning her neck to see over the mob Anora looked at the quickly expanding melee that surrounded the captured mage. As the ripples of violence reached her position the newly formed ring of protecting guardsmen shuddered under the weight of rioting zealots who threw themselves against the metal wall heedless of the pain that the guards' gauntleted fists and punching shields rewarded their efforts with.

Body and soul vibrating with adrenaline Anora felt the blood of her father race through her veins as the perils of battle closed in around her. Spotting a guardsman begin to draw his sword rather than simply holding the rioters at bay with shield and fist Anora called out, her voice rising above the din, "Guards, stay your blades!"

Hearing Ser Mylor shouting to be heard Anora turned to face the veteran officer as he said with a calm bespeaking of a lifetime of battles, "Your Majesty, we will not be able to hold out much longer without resorting to drawing our weapons."

"We just need to hold out until reinforcements arrive." Anora shouted back.

"What reinforcements, my Queen?" motioning towards the cathedral square's entrance and then the cathedral doors Mylor spat, "Cauthrien and her traitors have not moved to help us, Ser Mhairi's force is busy with the mage, and the templars retreated into the cathedral and I've not seen a glimpse of them since."

"Someone will come. Wave the standard to signal help and we will see who responds."

They were going to make it in time Ser Mhairi realized; the bonfire was only yards away. The thought spurring her onwards Mhairi gave a battle cry and surged forward towards the last, small knot of flagellants that stood between her and the mage. Ducking under a clumsily swung iron rod that glowed red hot Mhairi brought the edge of her shield smashing into the attacker's face; her blow sending spittle and blood flying from as the shield rim shattered his jaw. Following her momentum Mhairi continued her body's spin bringing a steel encased elbow into a second flagellant's chest. Collapsing against a pile of wood that stood ready to feed the nearby fire the man quickly regained his footing; now clutching a two-handed axe. As she gathered herself from the flurry of movement and prepared to face the now armed man Mhairi saw a flickering shape appear next to the flagellant and a thin line of red trace across the man's throat.

Frowning in confusion, her expression mirrored in the man's own surprised eyes, Mhairi watched as the fanatic's mouth gaped open and began taking enormous gulps of air. Her confusion becoming horror Mhairi watched as the thin line widened and became a mist like cloud of blood and air that sprayed into the air with every gasping breath the man took as he sunk slowly to his knees before toppling over onto the flagstones. Pulled from the shock of the unexpected death by the arrival of her fellow guardsmen who caught up with her and quickly dispatched the few remaining foes Mhairi jumped as a voice sounded next to her, "What a brave soldier you are. If I may make a suggestion, though, you might want to stay closer to your formation next time. Bravery works best when someone is watching your back."

"Who…the queen's handmaiden? But, but you killed him!" Mhairi gasped.

"Shh, we can't be having everyone know about this little talent of mine now can we?" the elf said as she wiped a stiletto clean, "I suggest you use this lull in the fighting to prepare your men to fight their way back out."

Nodding Mhairi issued orders and soon had her command formed into a semicircle around her with their backs to the fire. Ignoring the renewed clamor of battle as the zealots recovered from the surprise attack and threw themselves once more against the guards' shields Mhairi picked up the dead man's axe and walked over to where the mage lay next to the fire bound helplessly to the cross.

"Excellent timing, miss. Now if you would be so kind as to get these chains off me I'll be on my way." the man called out, his cheery voice at odds with the bruised, bleeding face that said it.

"Hold still, mage." Mhairi responded as she swung the axe.

Shaking off the lingering chains Anders struggled to his feet, hands fluttering ineffectually at his robes, "Ruined! Look at these blood stains, the tears. And the Wonders of Thedas was destroyed in the Blight! Where am I to get robes now?"

"Be quiet mage."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately; 'Be quiet, mage.' 'No, mage.' 'Burn for your sins, mage.'" the bedraggled blonde man muttered, his voice darkening with menace as he continued, "And I don't think I'll just stand here and take it…"

Not wanting to find herself facing an irate mage on one hand and a furious mob on the other Ser Mhairi interrupted, "I apologize, good ser, the stress of the situation made me forget my manners." seeing the man visibly collect himself Mhairi continued, "Now, if you don't mind I'd like to get out of here while we still can."

Having the grace to look embarrassed for his outburst Anders responded, "Agreed, with your permission I'll use a bit of magic to help us until we reach safety. Now, let us make haste towards the nearest exit."

"Haste, yes…nearest exit? Perhaps not." Turning at the voice Anders and Mhairi looked at Erlina who stood perched atop the wood pile. Pointing towards the cathedral, and the densest part of the mob, the elf went on, "Ser Mhairi, look. The royal standard is waving. Your Queen calls for aid."

"But the Warden ordered…"

"Why obey him? He allowed these madmen to congregate here; this disaster is his responsibility for failing to give Denerim much needed order. And now, when your rightful ruler attempts to rectify that failure, you abandon her?"

"Commander Cousland is a hero. He must have a good reason for not harassing these people..."

"Maybe, maybe not. But do you think he knew that the Queen would be at their mercy? Would whatever reason he had still stand if he knew what was happening here?"

"But my troops can't force our way through that crowd."

"You can if you draw your blades. The alternative is to condemn Her Majesty to death in disobedience of the oath you so recently took."

Interrupting the silence that fell after Erlina's words Anders piped up, "I'll gladly use my magic to help us reach the queen."

Climbing up the wood pile Mhairi looked out over the riot toward the tiny circle of her fellow guardsmen. And there, in the very center of the melee, Anora stood under the royal standard. Back straight, head held unflinchingly high, the personification of royal dignity despite her desperate situation Anora radiated authority. The royal standard held by one of Ferelden's most hardened veteran flapping frantically over her head Anora simply stood there looking directly and unwaveringly at Mhairi. The blood of ancient royalty did not flow through her veins but she grew from the same soil that had raised Dane and Calenhad. She was not a warrior-queen clad in armor smiting her foes but standing in the swirl of combat protected only by white purification robes her bravery outshone that of the warriors surrounding her.

Picking her way down the woodpile Ser Mhairi drew her sword and bellowed orders, "Soldiers of Ferelden, Remember your oaths! Draw your blades and reform behind me; our Queen calls for your aid."

Shaking his head at the offered refill Fergus spoke, "I had a word with Arl Eamon yesterday."

Setting the wine bottle down Aedan asked, "And what did the doddering, old man have to say?"

"Mock him all you want but the arl does what he thinks best for Ferelden."

"Like trying to put an unprepared, foolish bastard on the throne." Aedan groused.

"You should not speak so of the dead; especially one who died heroically."

"You never met Alistair; I promise I have said nothing he would not agree with." Aedan replied, "But enough of that…what did Eamon have to say?"

"He wanted me to urge you to speak with Anora."

"And, since you have bothered to relay this message, I assume you agree with Eamon."

"Before today you have told me of your ambitions regarding making your mark on history but never told me any details. I guess it makes sense but until hearing you discuss deposing Anora I had not thought of what changes you would need to make to see your dream fulfilled. Deposing Anora will not be an easy task and it will not happen quickly. Such an upheaval can only hurt Ferelden. No matter your intentions regarding her Anora will be your co-ruler for at least a short time and, given life's habit of not following plans, perhaps longer. For the sake of Ferelden sit down with her and work out some sort of agreement; even if it's only a temporary one.

"Please, brother, listen to my advice and Eamon's. Ferelden needs a functioning, united government. The risk of civil war resuming when you try to depose Anora is too great. You must wait for Ferelden to heal before putting it through another ordeal or our country might not survive. And, during that waiting period you will have to work with Anora rather than against her; at least publicly."

"Don't worry, Fergus, and tell Eamon to stop fretting as well next time you happen across him. I know Ferelden is bloodied and battered. A broken realm does me no good so rest assured that I will see it safely through the impending 'succession'. In fact I plan to meet with Anora before our wedding to broach the issue of me becoming King. I might as well discuss at the same time how exactly our responsibilities will be divided during our co-rule. A situation, I'm sure, both of us do not wish to last long."

"The wedding is tomorrow, how do you plan on getting everything done? Meeting with Anora, securing the Cleric's support…there's not much time left and you're spending it drinking with me."

"Actually those two problems should be taking care of themselves now." Aedan chuckled, explaining as Fergus gave an exasperated shake of his head, "Events taking place right now should secure me Chantry support and inform Anora about her lack of military strength."

"What events?" Fergus asked warily.

"I think Anora's going to have an incident with the Chantry today."

"An incident?"

Laughing Aedan nodded, "You'll hear about it soon enough."

"Commander Cauthrien, what are your orders?"

Ignoring the frantic voice Cauthrien stared across the tumultuous square at the waving royal standard. It called for help in an all too familiar way.

"Sound…the retreat."

Snapping her head around Cauthrien look at Loghain in confusion, "But…what about the king? Should we not-"

"Do as I command." Loghain snarled.

Startled as the teyrn grabbed her arm Cauthrien looked at Loghain's face. It was the determined, confident face of a man who had already saved Ferelden once and had saved her too. He had given her purpose, he had given her honor. Jerking her arm away from his insistent grasp Cauthrien stared at her master's face with the last, desperate hope that her master would change his mind. Seeing the resolve in his dark eyes that flickered red from the beacon's reflected flames Cauthrien turned away. Loyalty. Who was she to doubt the Hero of River Dane?

"Pull out! All of you, let's move!"

"Commander Cauthrien? We have to do something!" Finally looking away from the beseeching flag Ser Cauthrien turned to the frantic soldier as he continued, "The flag, commander, it's calling for aid. What are your orders? We need orders."

"Sound…the charge."

"Really, after all that they expect barred doors to stop me?" Anora said as she stood in front of the cathedral's closed door. Surrounded by her blood spattered guards, Anora smiled as her loyal troops laughed at their queen's attempt to relieve the tension of battle. "Ser Mhairi, take some volunteers and find something to knock with. Ser Cauthrien, take an escort and bring our wounded back to Fort Drakon."

"Yes, your Majesty." Cauthrien said, bowing.

"And then report to lord Cousland. I'm sure he'll be interested in hearing of this minor disturbance. Also, while you're talking to him tell my betrothed that I would like to meet with him tonight; I feel we have much to discuss."

"As you order, your Majesty."

Watching as her soldiers spread out through the square efficiently carrying out her orders Anora turned to Erlina, "Handmaiden, I'm glad to see you came through this unharmed."

"Likewise, my Queen."

Interrupted by the sound of the cathedral's massive doors creaking open Anora looked out at the square where Mhairi and a dozen other soldiers were dragging an enormous piece of fire-hardened timber towards the cathedral. "Looks like the Grand Cleric didn't want to wait for us to knock." Raising her voice to be heard across the square, now silent save the occasional moan of the wounded Anora called out, "Ser Mhairi, stay out here with your men. Ser Mylor, follow me with your command."

Walking through the open doorway surrounded by her proud, weary guards Anora passed the silent templars who stood statue like flanking the doorway. Stepping forward from their ranks a bareheaded female, her grimy armor contrasting with the spotless shine of her comrades', addressed Anora, "Your Majesty, if you care to follow me I will escort you to the Grand Cleric."

Nodding her permission Anora examined the woman who fell in step beside her, "I recognize you. Were you not the commander of that poor mage's escort?" Not waiting for an answer Anora continued, "It's a good thing you fled when you did, the crowd turned violent quickly. There were no guarantees my soldiers would have made it to you in time to save your lives."

"And in the chaos of that melee my men might have mistaken you for enemies." Ser Mylor added from where he followed the two women through the cathedral's nave.

"That would have been an unfortunate misunderstanding." Anora agreed, "Unnecessary bloodshed is always something to be avoided."

"Sadly much blood was shed today anyways." Rylock said gravely, "Many devout worshippers were hurt or killed in the chaos of that riot."

"Ah, but that was necessary blood." Anora commented with a small, tight grin, "There is nothing unfortunate about spilling that sort of blood; wouldn't you agree Ser Mylor."

"Yes, your Majesty." Mylor growled from directly behind Rylock, "In fact, the deaths of those that threaten your person are an occasion for celebration."

"Uh, I…I will leave you here to your absolutions, your Majesty." Rylock said as the group reached the cathedral's central altar.

Keeping her smile at Mylor's none too subtle threat from showing Anora nodded her acknowledgment of the templar's retreat while looking evenly at the figure that stood in front of her. "Grand Cleric, I am here for my devotions."

"Your Majesty's constant faith is a source of strength to us all." The Cleric responded in her lilting, Orlesian accent from where she stood behind the altar, "Please kneel and I shall begin the service."

Looking heavenward, her mouth opening to begin the benedictions the Grand Cleric frowned as she heard Anora's voice continue speaking. Lowering her head to look at the interruption the Cleric saw Anora still standing and talking with the blood covered guardsman and elf that had followed her into the cathedral. Thrown off balance by this lack of decorum the Grand Cleric simply stared as the queen ignored the prelate and continued her conversation.

"Erlina, I find that my knees are no longer as resilient as they were six years ago before marrying Cailan. I fear I shall not be able to endure kneeling again on this stone floor all day long as the ceremony is performed."

"Perhaps if I found you a pillow?

"In this ruined city, Erlina, where would you find such luxuries? Even at the palace most of the bedding has been torn up for bandages. Who could possibly have such luxuries?"

"Please allow me to look, my queen."

"Thank you, my faithful handmaiden." Anora responded as Erlina hurried off towards the cathedral's wing.

"That was your first taste of action, was it not, your Majesty?" Ser Mylor asked as the Grand Cleric looked on in mounting displeasure.

"Indeed it was. Thrilling really; I had not understood why so many are captivated by battle and glory but now…now it makes sense to me why my late husband was so eager to rush off to war."

Chuckling Mylor said, "You are braver than me, Majesty. After my first battle I was shaking like a leaf, exhausted, and nauseous." Taking admiring eyes from Anora the soldier looked at the silently glowering Grand Cleric, "Of course Ferelden has always bred the strongest women; not like those simpering Orlesians. Must be something in the water."

Unable to withstand the disrespect any longer the Grand Cleric interrupted, "I apologize, your Majesty but we must begin the ceremony now if it is to be finished before the sunset."

"It will take that long? Last time this only lasted until midday."

"I'm sorry, your Majesty, but because of the bloodshed you witnessed outside we must purify you of that before we can even begin preparing you for the wedding."

"You mean you cannot simply burn a larger lock of my hair this time?" Anora said.

"I, I'm afraid not. The ceremony is quite a bit more…complicated than that, your Majesty." The Grand Cleric stuttered, desperately attempting to keep her superior attitude and command of the situation.

"Oh, well then, by all means begin." Anora answered.

"Men may not be present."

"Of course, I wasn't thinking. Ser Mylor, go wait outside. Your troops must be famished; see that some food is brought to them and have Ser Mhairi bring me some as well. I find that excitement always leaves one hungry."

"As you command, your Majesty." Mylor said, smirking at the outrage that pierced the Cleric's serene façade.

Heads turning at the sound of a door opening and closing both Anora and the Grand Cleric watched as Erlina hurried towards; a pillow embroidered with the Chantry's symbol in each hand. Quickly setting the cushions in front of the altar Erlina spoke to Anora, "I hope these will be satisfactory, your Majesty. I found them in a very well appointed room connected to the cathedral's apse. It looked like a private bedroom but from the sheer amount of food, drink, and luxuries such as these pillows I must assume the room was a storehouse of sorts."

"I'm sure you're correct, Erlina." Anora said as she moved to kneel on the pillows. Looking at the Cleric she continued, "After all the Chantry's initiates swear a vow of poverty, such expensive goods couldn't be theirs. Those goods must have been collected for distribution to the Blight's victims. Isn't that right, Grand Cleric?"

Watching the prelate's jaw clench in anger as she recognized the pillows from her own chambers Anora smiled with a treacle-like sweetness, "Please, let us begin the ceremony. Perhaps it is simply being on this hallowed ground but I am suddenly conscious of this world's many sins."

A/N: Well, thanks to a snowstorm keeping me indoors tonight I give you a very quickly finished new chapter. Review please!